“Cancer isn’t an excuse.” Brian tried not to snap. Elle really did have Andrew’s best interest at heart.
Elle flinched back even though he’d modulated his tone. Andrew immediately reached for her, sending a frown towards Brian. A sour sensation flared in Brian’s chest as Andrew’s arm wrapped around Elle’s shoulders and he leaned in to say something softly to her, hand stroking her masses of dark brown curls.
It wasn’t jealousy, but maybe? Apart from Brian, Elle was probably the closest to Andrew. They’d been together for five years, from high school and into uni. Their breakup in second year had been sad but amicable as far as Brian could tell. Neither Andrew nor Elle had spoken about it much, and even though they didn’t talk to each other for several months after, they didn’t trash the other one. It had taken another couple of years for them to grow into close friends again. Andrew and Elle’s connection had never bothered Brian before.
James glanced their way, then turned back to Troy and their discussion about the new show they were training for. Apparently he wasn’t concerned about how his fiancé was tucked securely under her ex’s arm.
So why was Brian?
Carly scooted closer to Brian and tapped a glittery nail on the back of his hand. “You start your last rotation tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah. Accident and emergency.” His stomach tightened at the reminder. “Emergency medicine is what I want to do. I mean, I was worried going into my other rotations in surgical, paediatrics and palliative care, but this is the one field I can’t fuck up, you know? I barely feel like a real doctor most days, and this is probably where I’m going to completely fail.”
“Hey, you are a real doctor.” Carly squeezed his hand. “A real and good one.”
Her words caught Andrew’s attention and he smiled at Brian. “You’re not going to fail this rotation. You aced the others, you’ll ace this.”
“No worries,” Elle added brightly.
The swarm of butterflies in Brian’s belly didn’t exactly settle with his friends’ reassurances but they did ease off a little. “Fingers crossed I don’t kill anyone, right?”
Elle rolled her eyes and said “As if,” and Carly gave him a light smack on the back of the head, but it was Andrew’s clear, “You won’t,” that Brian focused on. Andrew had never not believed Brian could do this.
“Okay, okay.” James lifted his voice to get their attention. “Time for another announcement.”
Elle pulled away from Andrew, settled back next to James and the smile they shared was almost too sappy. Brian looked away from it, that twist of near-jealousy turning into something closer to shame.
“Me first,” Elle said. “I mean, it’s not much of an announcement, but . . .” She turned a bright, hopeful smile on Carly. “Carls, you’re my best friend and, let’s face it, the only other person in this group who could pull off a sweetheart neckline, so babe, will you be my maid of—”
The rest of it was cut off in a squeal and flurry of pastel as Carly lunged across the table to hug Elle, very loudly accepting the role in the wedding party. Brian rescued his drink before it became a casualty. Quite apart from the lack of disposable funds, he’d limited himself to one drink tonight because he was expected at the hospital at six a.m. the following morning, so he wasn’t risking the remaining beer in his glass.
When Carly had climbed down off the table, Elle graciously gave James the floor.
“Right.” James ran a broad, thick-fingered hand through his sun-faded brown hair, then tugged awkwardly at the hem of his Rubens T-shirt. Elle rubbed his arm soothingly and he seemed to draw strength from the contact. “Right, you guys have got to know this wasn’t an easy choice to make. I mean, you’re all my best mates, and hey, you’ll all be up there with me, right? I can only have one best man, but I got two groomsmen spots open as well. So when you—”
“Dude!” Troy shoved James’s shoulder with a gentle fist. “Just say it.”
“Okay, okay! Andrew, will you be my best man?”
Brian knew he hadn’t really been in the running. Andrew had always had more in common with James than he did. They’d played sport together through high school and uni, they’d both gone to Griffith while Brian got into Bond. They’d both fallen in love with the same person . . .
Troy, however. He was clearly doing the friendship math as he looked between groom and maybe-best-man. Andrew had known James longer, minus James and Troy spent more time together now, plus Andrew just got over cancer, minus Andrew used to sex the bride. Sadly, it wasn’t enough to tip the equation in Troy’s favour. Brian patted Troy’s shoulder even as the skier mustered up a grin and congratulated Andrew.
“Thanks,” Andrew said to Troy, then turned to James. “Mate, it’s an honour, but . . .”
“No buts, man.” James shook his head. “Elle and I both want you as our best man.”
Elle gripped Andrew’s hand. “It would mean so much to us.”
Andrew just shrugged, muttered he’d think about it, then stood abruptly. “Next round’s on me.” He was gone before anyone could give him their drink order.
Silence coagulated around the table in his wake. Everyone very carefully avoided eye contact and concentrated on finishing their drinks. Then Elle turned to Brian.
“Will you . . .?” she asked hopefully.
That weird-arse jealousy thing happened again but he resisted flat out telling her it had been a shitty thing to ask of Andrew. “It’s his choice. I’m not going to convince him to do something he’s not comfortable doing.”
Elle looked like she was going to protest but James shook his head fractionally and Carly distracted her by shifting over to Andrew’s empty seat and asking about dresses.
Troy nudged James. “You got a backup best man right here.”
James thanked him with a nod and drank down the last of his beer.
Andrew returned with another tray of drinks and passed them around, setting a Coke No Sugar in front of Brian and keeping two shots and a beer for himself.
“What is that?” Brian asked as Andrew threw back one of the shots.
“Tequila.” He slammed the second one and followed it with a long drink of beer.
“Careful. You haven’t had booze in over two years.”
“Then it’s about time,” he muttered.
Over the next hour, Elle and James hammered out more wedding details with Carly and Troy’s help. Andrew was too busy mainlining alcohol to offer much advice and Brian was too concerned about Andrew’s mental state to care. When Andrew wobbled to his feet for his fifth and sixth shots, Brian got up as well.
“No way, mate. We’re going home.” He slung Andrew’s arm over his shoulder. “Guys, I’m taking this slob home. We’re still on for the weekend?”
James and Troy’s new ski stunt show was premiering on Sunday and they had free passes to go watch their friends battle it out on the water. Plans were confirmed with “hell yeahs” and well wishes given for Brian’s first week in A&E, then he was hauling a staggering Andrew down the narrow stairs and onto the street.
“I can’t believe Elle and James,” Brian grumbled as Andrew hung off his shoulders and hummed lazily. “Asking you like that.”
“Knew it was coming,” Andrew slurred.
“Yeah, but in front of everyone? They did it so you wouldn’t say no.”
“I wanna say no.”
“So you fucking should. I mean, you used to date her, and he’s the friend who dated your ex behind your back for a year before telling anyone.”
“Yeah.” Andrew pulled Brian closer and snorted against his cheek. “Not gonna though.”
“You should,” Brian reiterated firmly, digging in his pocket for his keys while Andrew blew hot breath on his neck. “Dude, either suck something or back off.”
Andrew staggered back and leaned against the side of Brian’s car. “Sorry.”
Brian shrugged and unlocked the passenger door. Sometimes he wished for a car with central locking, but mostly,
he was insanely proud of his car.
The 1987 Jaguar XJ-S HE coupe had been his granddad’s, sitting in mothballs in his dad’s garage for fifteen years after granddad passed. The last thing Brian had expected was to find the clunky old car fully restored and sitting in his driveway his first day as an intern. Like calling himself a doctor, there were days when he couldn’t believe he got to say, “I drive a Jag.” Sadly, neither the line nor the car itself had been as magnificently attractive to the opposite sex as he’d hoped.
“Ella Bella’s gonna want this as her bridal car,” Andrew predicted gravely, running a hand over the pearlescent paint.
“Yeah. Come on, get in. I have to get to bed.”
Andrew nodded but didn’t move. “I should do it. I’m gonna do it.”
Really disliking that James and Elle had ambushed Andrew, Brian said, “Only if you want to.”
“Want to.” Andrew’s voice had dropped into a husky rumble and lost some of the drunken slur. He pushed off the car and got close to Brian again, head ducking to close the few inches of difference in their heights. “Brian, I love you.”
“Love you too, mate. Let’s get your drunk arse home.”
“No.” Andrew’s hand landed on Brian’s hip and he got even closer, whispering, “Brian Stagliano . . . I’m in love with you.”
Andrew put on his sunglasses, sat down on the top of his esky, hooked his hardhat over his knee and waited. Cars whizzed past on Central Street, one of Labrador’s main east-west roads, the traffic noise a rumbling counterpart to the faint pounding in his head. Hopefully Terri wasn’t too far away. The sooner he was distracted by work the better.
He wasn’t really hungover, just a bit tender. Four tequila shots and two beers in under an hour had been a big mistake after two years abstinence. And not just because the alcohol had hit him like a sledgehammer to the face. The drive back to his and Brian’s townhouse from Tots had been excruciating. His stomach had curdled and not even staring fixedly at the passing lights had settled it. Especially not with Brian silent and tense behind the wheel. They hadn’t spoken, hadn’t looked at each other, hadn’t argued over whose Spotify list to listen to. There was nothing during the twenty-minute drive home to wipe out the image of Brian’s shocked expression, or the way he’d reeled back from Andrew like he was physically repulsed.
Definitely had been the wrong time to drop that little bombshell. Shouldn’t have said anything at all. Andrew had messed up again and this time, he might lose his best friend.
Brian had been gone by the time Andrew woke up that morning. Quarter past five was too early to leave for a six a.m. start at a hospital fifteen minutes down the road, even if Brian had been his usual bundle of nerves about starting a new part of his internship. Andrew had wanted to see him off, reassure him he would blitz this like he had every other rotation. Wanted to know he hadn’t ruined everything.
A dark blue dual cab ute pulled up and the passenger side window rolled down. “Come on, Drew. We’re going to be late!”
For whatever reason Terri had decided she was going to call him Drew and that was that. Andrew didn’t mind, mostly just grateful she’d hadn’t picked “Andy.” One of a small group of women construction workers, Terri could definitely hold her own on any site. Of mixed Filipino descent, she was lean, wiry and used to kickbox at high competition levels until her second pregnancy and she decided a more stable job was required. She’d taken him under her wing when he first joined the crew and helped him until he’d rebuilt the muscle mass chemo had eaten away. Two months in and he could finish the day’s work without feeling like he was going to die.
Andrew tossed his esky into the footwell and settled into the passenger seat. The belt was barely clicked in when Terri rocketed them back into the seemingly ceaseless flow of traffic.
“So, was it as bad as you thought it would be?” she asked.
For a moment Andrew wondered how she knew about his epic blunder with Brian, then he remembered what had led up to possibly the stupidest moment of his life. To date.
“They asked,” he muttered. “It was pretty bad.”
“Really?” Terri indicated a turn and took the corner on a yellow light. “I can’t believe she actually asked you to be the best man. I mean, a man doing something that fucked up I get, but her?”
Andrew shrugged. “We are friends. Good friends.”
“Yeah, but you were with her for, what? Four years or something.”
“Five.”
“Fuck me. Five years! And now they expect you to get up in front of the world and say how happy you are for them?” Terri grumbled under her breath, maybe about Elle and James’s audacity, or the tiny convertible that whipped in front of them on the Gold Coast Highway. “Should have taken Olsen.”
“One’s as bad as the other at this time of day.”
Terri conceded his point with a grunt. “Did you tell them to fuck off about the best man shit?”
“Said I’d think about it.”
She threw him a narrow-eyed glare. “Don’t give in. I’m telling you, it will suck dirty balls. Trust me.”
“Been there, done that?”
“Hah! I’m not that stupid. My sister-in-law on the other hand.”
“Crazy Catherine?”
“That’s the one.”
Andrew smiled. He’d never met the self-appointed “Crazy Catherine,” but he’d heard enough stories from Terri to believe it. Terri filled the rest of the commute with stories about her sister-in-law’s wedding and Andrew almost forgot about his ill-timed confession the night before. By the time they parked on the side of the road several doors up from the work site in Palm Beach, he’d even laughed a couple of times.
That mood disappeared as soon as he saw the red Tesla Model 3 sitting in front of the partially constructed house.
“Oh, yay,” Terri murmured under her breath. “The architect is here.”
The site manager, Ron Aldridge, was standing out the front with the architect. Vaughn Sheridan was one of the more prominent architects in the state and was steadily making a name for himself across the country. Andrew had studied his buildings for a third year assignment on innovative design. The man was one of the best environmentally sustainable integrators currently working. Which was why Andrew had strived hard to get a graduate architect position at his firm, Green Life Homes. He’d been there for barely four months when he’d got his diagnosis and had to leave. The last thing he wanted was to be recognised as the guy who couldn’t cope and was now working construction.
Manager and architect had a set of plans between them and looked like they were arguing about something. Not unusual when the nicest thing Ron had to say about Vaughn was “cool car.” Using it to his advantage, Andrew put on his hardhat, ducked his head and steamed on past the men, Terri between him and them as an added barrier.
They’d stowed their gear, got their jobs for the day from the foreman and were heading into the work site when Ron called Andrew’s name.
“Someone’s in trouble,” Terri sing-songed.
Andrew threw her a withering glance, then turned back to Ron. “Yeah, boss?”
Ron waved Andrew over to where he and the architect stood. He went while Terri continued on into the site.
Sheridan was average height but lean and broad shouldered. Office gossip from two years ago said he used to be a volunteer lifesaver and still swam most days, and that still appeared to be true. His hair was sandy blond, eyes a dark blue and smile perfect. Most days he wore fitted jeans and a dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Today, however, he had on a suit that accentuated the swimmer’s build.
“Andrew, this is Vaughn Sheridan.” Ron crossed his arms and looked between them. “He asked to meet you.”
Oh shit. He felt Ron’s gaze boring into the side of his head, probably wondering what the architect could possibly want with a bricks and nails guy.
Sheridan smiled and held out his hand. “I thought I recognised you the other day. Andrew Fitzr
oy, right? Worked for us a couple of years back?”
Shaking the offered hand, Andrew said, “Eighteen months ago, yeah. I, ah, wasn’t there long.”
Ron’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “You’re an architect?”
“Yes,” Sheridan said just as Andrew muttered, “No.”
Sheridan frowned. “I thought you left Green Life for another job. Aren’t you qualified yet?”
Andrew shook his head. “I left . . . for personal reasons. Never did get qualified.”
“Why not?” Sheridan clasped his shoulder. “Of all the applications I looked over for that position, yours was far and away the best. It’s not often we get graduates with real world building experience like you. That sort of practical knowledge is priceless. And the work you did while with us showed genuine talent and promise. I was incredibly sorry when I learned you’d left us.”
Two years ago, Andrew would have welcomed the praise, especially from someone he respected. Now, all he wanted to do was get away from this moment and not have to answer the inevitable questions about why he’d given up his dream job for this. Getting away from the narrow-eyed speculation from Ron would be good too.
“Guess it’s just not what I want to do anymore.” Andrew inched backwards.
Hand dropping away, Sheridan nodded. “I would love to be able to change your mind, but if you’re sure.”
“Yeah.” Relief eased some of the tension from Andrew’s shoulders. He hadn’t realised how clenched he’d become. “I’m sure. This is good enough.” He waved at the construction site.
Sheridan’s easy smile returned. “Well, it was good to meet you again, Andrew. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again during this project. I should get on my way to a meeting in Brisbane. That’ll teach me for deciding to stay on the Coast last night.” He turned to Ron and while the smile remained on his lips, it no longer reached his eyes. “I hope to see the correct ducts here by the end of the week.”
While Ron reluctantly agreed, Andrew escaped. He’d been dreading Sheridan recognising him from the moment he learned this job was one of his. It could have gone worse, but it would have been better if Ron hadn’t witnessed it.
The New Normal Page 2
